Dinner
by BananaLover3902
Summary: Len feels sick to his stomach, but is too embarrassed to admit it to his parents, so he pretends to be fine during dinner with his family, but the night doesn't turn out the way he'd planned...
1. Chapter 1

"Food's ready, Dear!" Len's mom called out to him, her voice sweet. However, that day Len had not been taking high pitched noises well, nor loud ones. He winced as the sound grated against his ear drums, his head already throbbing. That had not helped it in the slightest.

He'd denied his unwell feelings all day, convincing himself he was just having an off day, and everything was fine. He powered through the headache during school, trying his best to ignore it. He laid his head down on the table during lunch, not hungry enough to force himself to eat. His friends were a little concerned, since he normally wolfed his food down, but shrugged off the worry when he told them he didn't sleep well the night before and let him rest. It was when he got home from school that he couldn't deny how bad he truly felt any longer. The moment he stepped into the door, he threw his backpack onto the ground and bolted into the bathroom, puking up what little food was in his stomach from breakfast. He was glad that the nausea hadn't occurred until school was finished, but instantly wished it was never there in the first place when another heave wracked his small frame. He felt empty, but his body still tried to rid itself of the nonexistent meal that was causing it grief. After a few dry heaves, he knew he was done for now, but the nausea still plagued him, forcing him to stay in the bathroom as he couldn't tell when it was a dry heave, or when he was actually going to start throwing up again. He dry heaved every few minutes, his stomach aching terribly from the effort already, and it wasn't half an hour before he was vomiting again. This time it left him shaking from weakness, the energy he'd expended from trying to force out stomach acid and saliva taking its toll on his body. He wanted to lie down, but he didn't think he could leave the bathroom without having to run back in within an hour. Even so, he was so weak and tired from the events that just occurred, that he wasn't sure he could even get up and walk to his room. He admitted defeat to whatever illness had infiltrated his body and lied down on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, closing his eyes.

He'd slept on the bathroom floor for who knows how long, before a high pitched voice rang in his ears, jolting him out of his uncomfortable sleep. He groaned before realizing he'd need to get up. Since his mom was home, and apparently food was ready, it must have been around six, since she got home at five thirty. He'd thankfully slept for a couple hours and didn't have to stay awake during that time, suffering through the nausea and headaches. However, he needed to get up. His parents were expecting him for dinner.

He never knew why, and no one ever questioned him, but he always got extremely embarrassed whenever he was sick. He didn't like to admit weakness to others, and if possible, he would hide away from others and deal with it alone. He got sick more often than people realized, and that was because he was very good at hiding it. The only times people saw him sick were the times he'd been caught before he had a chance to hide it, or when the pain was too intense to bare silently and he'd just broken down in tears in front of someone. Thankfully that didn't happen too often, because that just made the embarrassment a million times worse. In this case, he decided he would try to hide it. It was just an upset stomach and a headache. Nothing he couldn't handle. Slowly, he pushed himself up off the ground with shaking arms into a sitting position. One glance in front of him and he shut his eyes, blindly reaching for the toilet handle and flushing it quickly. He prayed he would forget what he saw so he didn't vomit from the memory.

He grabbed the edge of the sink and pulled himself up, resting for a moment before even thinking about walking. His head was fuzzy and he felt himself losing his balance a little. He probably stood up too quickly, he thought, but when the feeling didn't dissipate after several seconds, he realized he was going to have to add "dizziness" to the list of symptoms he was suffering from. Sighing silently, he glanced up at himself in the mirror. Thankfully his complexion wasn't going to give him away immediately. He was a little pale and flushed, but not so much that he couldn't play it off as being hot. He turned the sink on and splashed a little water on his face, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes. He stood over the sink for a moment, debating on just skipping dinner to stay in the bathroom. The nausea was starting to return, and he felt like he wouldn't be able to make it through half an hour of being surrounded by the sights and smells of food. Another call from his mother brought him away from the thoughts of skipping, and he turned the sink off and dried off his face. He would have to go down there and just hope for the best.


	2. Chapter 2

Len slowly walked into the living room, trying to keep his head down, but still avoid suspicion. Thankfully his parents were talking to each other, and weren't paying close attention to him as he sat down at the table. His mom looked at him after a moment.

"I got you some meatloaf, but I wasn't sure if you'd like the other stuff, so I figured you could decide if you wanted it or not," she told him, gesturing to the plate sitting on the table in front of him. Len looked down at it and nodded. There was only a lone piece of meatloaf on it, and they would get suspicious if he only had that on his plate. He reached for the spoon in the bowl of baked beans and scooped some onto his plate, also grabbing a roll as well. He decided it might be a good idea to nibble on the roll. Maybe the bread would absorb some of the excess stomach acid and settle his stomach a little.

"So how was school today, Len?" his dad asked. Len looked up at them, unsure of what to say. Here was his chance to just blurt out everything and then suffer through the several minutes of embarrassment before being sent off to bed with a bottle of pepto. Was it worth it to just bail out and accept his fate?

"It was fine," he mumbled. He looked down at the roll in his hand and took another tiny bite, doing his best to not overload his stomach. He'd probably eaten the equivalent of one normal bite, and his stomach was already feeling too full to eat any more.

"What did you do today?" he followed up. He took a hearty bite out of his meatloaf. Len couldn't look at him as he ate. The smell of the food was starting to get to him, and watching his parents eat would make him vomit right then and there.

"Nothing much," he replied. He set his roll down on his plate and picked up his fork. He began to cut his meatloaf into pieces, trying to stall so their attention wouldn't be on him anymore and he could pretend to eat. There was no way he could put the greasy, slightly squishy meatloaf in his mouth. The smell was already getting to him, the texture would kill him. He would just get up to get a glass of water and a napkin and put food in the napkin when they weren't looking.

His parents began talking to each other again, averting their attention away from Len. He decided to seize this opportunity and started to get up, when his mom stopped him.

"Where are you going?" she asked him. Len hesitated.

"Just going to get some water," he replied. He was starting to feel dizzy again. He hoped she would just let him go so he could lean onto the fridge for support.

"Oh, I can get that for you sweetheart," his mom said, catching him by surprise. She stood up and walked over to the cabinet and pulled out a clear glass, then went over to the fridge to put ice in it and fill it with water. Realizing that he missed his opportunity, he sat back down. His mom smiled at him and set the glass on the table in front of him, then took a seat on the opposite side of the table at her plate. She picked up her fork and cut off a piece of her meatloaf, glancing up at Len. She furrowed her brows.

"Len, honey, you haven't touched your meatloaf," she commented, catching the attention of her husband. "I thought you liked meatloaf." Len froze, knowing they'd begun to get suspicious of him.

"Ah, it's just a little hot," he muttered. His mom furrowed her brows even more. Something was definitely off.

"Really? I thought the food got a bit cold after waiting so long for you to come downstairs," she said. Len knew he'd been caught at that point. He just shrugged in reply, not bothering to come up with a better excuse. It wouldn't have worked anyway.

"You haven't really touched any of your food, now that you mention it," his dad added. "Everything okay?" Len nodded, not looking at either of them. Being nervous had made the nausea spike, and he was starting to feel hot. He was going to be sick. Len got up from the table and started to walk away, when his mom stopped him.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked, a hint of firmness in her tone. It was a command to come back, despite being worded as a question.

"Bathroom," he mumbled. He needed to throw up _now_. He couldn't waste time talking. But he found it hard to continue walking. His limbs were getting heavy, and the bathroom suddenly seemed so far away…

"Have a seat," his mother instructed. Something was wrong, and she was determined to figure out what. Len absentmindedly went back to the table and sat down, resting his hand on his stomach under the table. The cramps were setting in. He couldn't choke it back for much longer.

"Is everything alright?" she asked. "It's not like you to not eat. Is something going on at school? Someone bothering you?" She stared him down, trying to see if she could figure it out by his body language. He looked almost like...like he was in pain.

He couldn't hold it back. Without warning, vomit spilled onto his lap and the floor, making his mom yelp in surprise. Len took in a deep breath before another heave overtook him. He was hunched over at this point, his stomach aching terribly from forcing out the tiny bit of food that was in his stomach. He heaved again, making no noise other than the slight splattering sound from the vomit hitting the floor.

His mom quickly pushed her chair back and ran into the kitchen, grabbing the trash can. She held it underneath of him after he finished another heave. He spit into the trash can and took in a few deep breaths, trying to get in as much air as possible before the next heave left him feeling lightheaded and dizzy. He winced as he heard the sound of his vomit hitting the bottom of the plastic bag and echo slightly, since it was empty. It only made him feel sicker.

"Honey…" his mom mumbled. She ran her fingers through his hair. "You could have said that you weren't feeling well…" Len's cheeks burned. He couldn't stand people seeing him like this.


End file.
